Students milled about, some heading to the dorms, others to clubs. The air was filled with chatter and the occasional burst of laughter from a group of friends.

You rounded a corner, your mind half on the day's lessons, half on the dinner you were hoping to grab before curfew.

A blur of motion. A soft gasp.

Shoulders collided. Books and papers scattered across the polished floor with a slap and a whisper.

You blinked, looking down. A small, open notebook lay near your feet, filled with neat, bubbly handwriting. A pink mechanical pencil had rolled to a stop by your shoe.

The invisible girl, Hagakure Tooru, was already scrambling to gather her things, her gloved hands patting the floor blindly.

Among the scattered debris, her fingers brushed past something small and colorful. A nail file. And on her hands—

Her nails were painted a delicate, shimmering lavender, each one perfectly done.

She was grabbing for her notebook, her hands moving in a fluster, clearly embarrassed.